


Ministry Advances: Overtime

by Witches_Britches



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 13:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18779137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witches_Britches/pseuds/Witches_Britches
Summary: Can Draco handle a simple letter delivery to Hermione's flat? :: These are a series of 'short' stories or 'drabbles' in a collection of Ministry Advances:  https://archiveofourown.org/collections/MinistryAdvancesAlthough they are separate stories, see if you can catch some 'easter eggs' that relate to another. Enjoy.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .-Preface-The new generation that works for the Ministry of Magic has a different perspective than others before them.Hermione is leading a new division of Investigations, under the Department of Magical Law Enforcement along side Harry and Ron.Draco on the other hand, has to prove himself trustworthy after the war, but the Ministry begins to recognize that his talent for potions are becoming a valuable asset. Soon, the Ministry's department of Regulation and Control appoints him the Head of Potions Regulation.Hermione and Ron chanced a romantic relationship but concluded that they were better off as friends.. . .Fanfiction.net and Wattpad @Witches-Britches





	Ministry Advances: Overtime

**Overtime:**  is the amount of time someone works beyond normal working hours.

. . .

Draco stared at the pristine vials he had just organized in a cabinet in the Ministry labs, and considered cleaning them again. It was a Friday evening, everyone had already left the office, but where was he to go? What was he to do?

There were not too many people interested in hanging out with an ex-Death Eater, even if they were polite to him enough during working hours. Resigning himself to the task, he began to open the cabinet, but was caught off guard by a voice behind him.

"Is there a 'Granger' here?"

His ears twitched to hear that name, and Draco turned, curiously eyeing the hallway. There was no one else around, but he paused as if the emptiness of the office would respond. Did they no longer have after-hour elves? Probably not, thanks to Granger, he chuckled to himself.

Draco glanced up to see a young man carrying a long white messenger bag, a rare sight since they were only meant to deliver urgent messages from the Muggle community into the Ministry.

Just as the messenger in the hallway began to turn and leave, Draco quickly stepped over to open the door wider. He quickly responded, "No. She left early."

Draco scrunched his nose, Shit, I wasn't supposed to know that- so obvious!

"I mean, I heard," he amended.  
Oh yes, that will clear things right up, he'll have no idea you stalk her now!

The mail deliverer looked slightly annoyed, probably because he wanted to get home for the weekend, "Right. Okay well, I guess I'll just have to go find-"

Eagerly, Draco stepped forward, "You need something sent to her?"

"Yes, this is not to be sent by owl though."

He had no idea what came over him, but as he stared down at the letter in the messenger's hand, he offered, "I can take it to her."

The man nearly handed Draco the envelope in relief before pausing, holding it back in suspicion, "You know her?"

Hmm, do I 'know' her? Well, I'm not lying am I?

"Yes, I can take it to her. Urgent?"

The man flipped the envelope over, and both their eyes were drawn to the red-inked stamp that confirmed: 'Urgent, Deliver in Person Only'.

Draco nodded to reassure him but the man still appeared hesitant as he handed over the envelope. Before he could completely pass it off to Draco, he glanced past him as if to scrutinize the lab.

"You happen to get creative in there?"

Draco only lowered his eyebrows, quickly deducing that the man was referring to the potions lab behind him. Draco too glanced back, curious of which items he might find odd. He had seen Muggle labs before, and perhaps the twisted beakers, oversized cauldrons, animal bone platforms, and other odd-shaped vials like those that were behind him, might appear strange.

"You know mate, like Moon Gas, Snicket Twists, Black Velvet, or uh..." The man began to snap his fingers quickly, "Oh, Satyr's Flame! Or maybe you're more familiar with the uppers, like Banshee Lace, Lickity-Split, Patronus Drops, Felix Feelies, Dragon Lust or even Mad Hatter, though I think in Scotland they call it Wild Kelpie..."

Draco recognized the street names of all of the illegal potions listed, though he was unwilling to release any details about the Ministry's labs, even if they had confiscated each of them at some point. The messenger man appeared proud, as if to brag that he, too, knew things about the magical community. Perhaps he was a Squib. Either way, he did not seem to recognize Draco's antipathy, possibly misconstruing it for confusion. Seeming to assuming Draco did not understand his references, the drug-exuberant messenger continued to list more magical street drugs, while ticking them off on his fingers.

"Maybe you've heard of Polypunch or Belial's Bliss? Hold on, let me think... Oh, then there's the real dark stuff: Chimney Sweeps, Pixie Knickers, Castle Cats, not to mention Thunder Claps... they can really do you in-"

Draco interrupted the man's cheeky wink by abruptly snatching the letter from him so as to end the conversation. Standing firmly in the center of the door, he tried to remind the wizard that he was not invited to explore the Ministry labs for such narcotics.

The man looked offended, trying to play off that it had not been his intention. After an uncomfortable wait, he finally seemed to clue in that Draco had no plans to continue the conversation and the mail carrier checked his watch awkwardly. As he turned to leave, Draco thought the bloke could have at least thanked him for releasing him from overtime work so he did not have to search for Granger all over London. Draco nearly thanked the man for the opportunity, but his listed rant on street potions caused a change of heart.

Draco held the letter, studying it. His heart began to pick up speed just from reading her name, printed in all caps, along with a red wax 'M' Ministry seal. He traced the pad of his thumb over where her name was spelled out. He had never gotten one of these; it must be serious. Suddenly, he felt overwhelmed by the task.

It's not creepy at ALL that I know where she lives. Shit, this is daft, why did I do this? You know why, idiot- go. Go now. Walking back into the lab, he looked over to the clear glass closet, where his long tweed coat was hanging. Draco narrowed his stare to the left pocket that he often felt was nagging at him. He had even gone so far as to cast a protective spell on it, so that anyone who happened to snoop would never discover its contents.

Walking over and lifting it from the hook, he placed the urgent letter into the right pocket before returning to the lab. He stalled for awhile by organizing a few final things, recalling the events of earlier that day. Every day, he entered the Ministry offices at just the right time to be sure he would covertly catch the early morning gossip. He even took special routes to the Potions lab, passing the office sticky-beak, who prided herself on knowing what the Golden Girl was up to at all times. In this way, Draco had managed to discover that Granger was to leave work early for some sort of party with Ginny Weasley.

He desperately wanted to know things about her, never expecting to be an active participant in her life. This type of event Granger was attending set him on edge, making him anxious. A party meant more chances for her to socialize with other wizards, none of whom he could really keep tabs on. His mind played out scenarios in which she would meet the love of her life, who would be everything the opposite of himself: a positive do-gooder, someone everyone got along with, and humble. Palms leaning against a lab table stacked with cauldrons, Draco sniffed resentfully. Those blokes were the worst.

All of this, bottled up tight in his mind, affected his moods and determined the type of days he would have. The lack of control made him sick, like an addiction, perhaps harder than recovering from 'Thunder Claps' or 'Chimney Sweeps'.

Draco exhaled, then determined to get it done. Taking steps toward his hanging coat, he hesitated, shook his head, then paced alongside the lab table. He paused, tapping his fingers rapidly on the slick black surface, then turned back toward his coat. Leaning his back against the hard edge, trying to relax, the table scooted backward and he stumbled slightly. Balancing upright, he reminded himself how ridiculous this was, and made his best attempt to shut off his brain by imagining he was someone else entirely, just so he could merely put his coat on.

When he finally buttoned his coat, he immediately shoved his hand into his pockets, frustrated with his anxiety, though the edges of the envelope in his left pocket gave him another spike of adrenaline. He played out logistic scenarios as to why this should be a simple task, such as: she would not even be home, and he could easily drop a letter at her door, even if it was meant to be handed off directly. Though, at the same time, he imagined Granger leaving the party early, choosing to be a homebody instead. Aside from the nerves that pulsed in such imagined scenarios, the thought of catching her at home this way made him smile a little.

Wand at the ready, he rolled his neck and Disapparated, arriving a moment later outside her apartment complex. Looking around as if there might be a witness but finding none, he tentatively entered the foyer of her building.

At the entrance, he scanned the closet-sized space before approaching some small, square mailboxes built into the wall. Finding her name and flat number, his heart leapt from the reality of it. He had never been this far into her flat, only outside it, where he had seen her walking in a few times before. Anytime he happened to be in the neighborhood he dared himself to get near, hoping he would catch sight of her by 'accident'.

Draco flinched when a man also entered, stepping aside in case he, too, might need to stand in front of the little, silver boxes. Instead, the man pressed a white button and chatted with someone until there was a loud buzz, and he turned to open another door.

Fuck, I can't just drop this off, he realized, I'll have to press that noise-button... thingy. There was no one around, so he began to pull out his wand, then stopped himself when he heard the door open again. He peeked over, his body relaxing when he discovered it was not Granger, but an older woman who had keys that opened the locked door. She turned to look at him and he quickly turned away, pretending to press a button on the mailboxes like the person before.

When he heard the woman's footsteps fade away, he turned quickly. The door was slowly lingering before it began to swing closed, so he caught it and slipped inside.

He exhaled, trying to settle his racing heart. Why was this so stressful? There was a series of stairs and he had no idea where to start, but as he passed one, he paused when he saw a lift, Thank fuck.

The lift appeared unlevel, and he wondered when it had last been used. After pressing yet another button, the dented silver doors creaked open and he took a step inside, then stepped back out. Seeing that the floor did not crumble against his weight, he concluded that he would give it a chance. Slowly distributing his weight as he stepped fully inside, he pressed the number for her floor that had appeared on her silver mailbox. One of the lights inside flickered and he reached for his wand to prepare for a freefall, but nothing happened other than the slight vibrations of the lift as it slowly made its way up the building. He chastised, Get a hold of yourself.

The lift jolted and hovered in space before the doors opened again and Draco promptly stepped out. A faint screech was made as the doors met again to close, as if wishing him good luck. Draco turned to observe the hall, thankful that it stretched in only one direction. He could not move though, only staring into the hallway. Her hallway. THIS is where SHE lives. He clutched the letter in his pocket just slightly as if to remind himself of his purpose, or at least one of them.

As he walked down, scanning the doors for her number, his heart began to beat faster. He walked a good distance down, then slowed as he approached the door numbered 616. That sounds like her name, Hermione, he thought, if it were possible for a person to sound like a number.

He stepped backward to give it a better look, and felt something odd pressing into his back. Turning to look, he saw that it the corner of a dramatically large frame for a painting on the wall. Staring at it closely, he noted the small clumps of paint on what looked like cloth parchment and he waited for it to move, but it didn't. He studied it, admiring the colors, and the way it held a sort of design that made your eyes move from one part of it to the next, thinking, She sees this when she walks out her door every day...

Turning back toward her door, Draco's mind began to spin, Is she in there? Would she want to see me? Would she think me odd for showing up like this? Perfectly good reason, this letter... it DOES say urgent. But I'm hardly a delivery boy or an owl.

Allowing his mind to continue wandering, it was not long before he wondered if she would actually open the door. He tried to imagine what she would look like at this hour, which was a habit of his. Would her hair be up, or down?

As he studied her maroon door, he soon realized that it had a peephole and he began to panic.

She could be looking at me, probably freaked out that I'm here, in her space, waiting here, like a murderer or something. He quickly shifted out of sight of the peephole.

Meanwhile, his other hand had reached in his pocket to clench different letter in his left pocket. This one was not marked as urgent, but it certainly felt like it should be...

.

Floors below, in the foyer, Hermione was awkwardly digging in her purse for keys while Ginny giggled at her struggles.

"Merlin, I'm so dumb... accio keys."

"WITCH!" Ginny blurted, her brassy outcry twisting into a hearty cackle.

Hermione had to brace herself, joining her friend in an obnoxious laughter. Noticing the echo of their giggles bouncing loudly off of the foyer tiles, Hermione tried to wind down her behavior, "Shh-Shh, Ginny... Muggles!"

"Oh please, they can tell we're sloshed, they'll only see the cat, not it's whiskers."

They both continued to giggle as Hermione attempted, and finally managed, to unlock the door. Making their way to the lift, Ginny started recalling their night, half slurred, while Hermione was bent-over laughing again, trying to hold herself up on the bars around the inside of the lift.

"I forgot about that!"

"You would," Ginny scoffed, "how much did you drink!?"

"You knowwww..."

Hermione began to stand up straight, suddenly remembering something. Ginny had to snap her out of it, "Oh, you look pale, it wasn't that bad!"  
She knew Ginny was referring to the events of the party, but she had her mind on something else entirely.

As the lift jolted and the doors creaked open, Hermione gave Ginny a look, as if to reprimand her that this time she was serious, she did not want a complaint from her neighbors. Ginny silently mocked her, wobbling her head, and for a moment they were quiet as they began to step down the hallway, only to stop short once they saw who was standing at the end of the long hall.

Frozen in place, Hermione could only stare at the tall blond wearing the long, dark green coat, who was at the end of the corridor waiting for... something. She felt a tug at her arm and a second later, Ginny was pulling her off to the side near the fire exit door.

They both gave each other a wide-eyed look, hoping the small nook before the fire exit would hide them.

Ginny wheezed, "What is he doing here?"

"How does he know where I live?"

"Ohh, maybe it's important, you know, Ministry stuff."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at the thought, then, together, they popped their heads out to look at him again before retreating once more. "He looks so... serious!"

"Shhh! Ginny, quiet!"

"Well, what're you going to do, stare at him all night?"

"I don't know!"

At the end of the hall Draco shifted, as if turning to leave, taking steps back toward the lift, but stopped abruptly, and made his way back toward her door. He stretched his neck as if he were uncomfortable in his own skin, sliding his hands nervously through his hair.

Hermione and Ginny turned to each other again, wild-eyed. Ginny pulled Hermione back against the fire door, "Did. You. See. That?"

Hermione bobbed her head to agree, but Ginny was all too excited by the sight.

"He's nervous!"

"Yes, I gathered that, but why?"

"Hermione, seriously?"

Ginny suspiciously studied her friend, as if to discover something, but Hermione only stared back at her. She was horrible at hiding things, a fact they both knew. Suddenly, she broke into a snicker and Ginny had to cover Hermione's mouth to keep her quiet, while gasping in surprise.

"You and Malfoy?"

Hermione's nose wrinkled, pulling away her friend's hands, "No... it's nothing. We haven't-"

Moving closer to Hermione's face, Ginny began to inspect her, though perhaps not realizing how close she was until their foreheads bumped.

Hermione pushed her head away, "Ginny, really, nothing has happened."

"You mean he is standing at your door for nothing?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, but grinned all the same.

"Hermione! You have a Slytherin, nervous, at your door!"

"I swear, Ginny!"

Ginny stood up straight just as Hermione's cheeks began to turn a bright red. "But- wait! You! You like him!"

Hermione gave herself away as she quickly avoided her stare, which only confirmed it for Ginny, "What? That's Draco Malfoy, remember? Drrrraccoo... Maaalfoyyy!"

This time, Hermione placed her hands over Ginny's mouth to keep her quiet, "Yes, I know, Ginny, I really do know, trust me!"

"Mal- Foy... Malfoyyyy!" Ginny still managed, muffled as it was under Hermione's hands.

Suddenly there was a noise below in the stairwell and Hermione nearly squealed worried that someone would reprimand them for standing there like ninny school-girls blathering over a boy. She turned to check on her pacing coworker, but he was only standing there now. "What is he waiting for? Did he knock?"

"Um, if he knocked and you didn't answer, wouldn't he leave?"

"He didn't knock- he's-"

"Hermione, he's scared of you!" Ginny waved her hands in the air as if to imply there was a banner above them to read, "Ooohh, Draco Malfoy is scared of Hermione Granger. I am so watching that show! I can't wait to-"

Hermione pulled Ginny in tightly, nearly smashing into wall with nowhere else to go, "No, Ginny, stop. Honestly, he could just be dropping something off, or-"

"Or, he loves you!"

Hermione sulked, rolling her eyes, "You are too drunk, little Weasley, I think- maybe you should go."

"Oh? And why should I go if it's just a delivery?" She shifted her weight onto one hip and crossed her arms before waiting expectantly for a response.

Hermione only bit her lip. It was true she had secret aspirations, but she was intoxicated and not thinking clearly. Feeling overheated, she took off her red coat and pushed it into Ginny's arms.

"Okay, I will go to my door. Alone. If he's just dropping something off, you can come down the hall like you were only a bit behind me, okay?"

Hermione flittered her hands out as if she magically resolved the situation, but Ginny remained standing strong. She tilted her head forward, waiting for whatever the alternative was: a 'Plan B' that Hermione always offered in such schemes.

Noticing her friend's pause, Hermione exhaled, "And if it's not just a delivery..."

"...I go off to my brother's place and wait for you to tell me everything in the morning."

Hermione sighed, "Yes, but I'm sure that won't be necessary."

Ginny tapped Hermione's arm, realizing how affected her friend was by this. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Hermione only gave her a knowing look, silently conveying her skepticism that anyone could understand why she would like someone like Draco Malfoy. Ginny accepted her silent argument, and nodded in agreement.

Together, they looked back down the hall at Draco to find that he had resumed pacing again. When he turned to face in their direction, they ducked their heads again and stepped back against the exit door.

"He is so nervous, Hermione, over you!"

Hermione closed her eyes, shaking her head. "Ginny, you will see in a few seconds, that when I walk down this hall in my party dress..." They both snickered until she stopped to become more serious again, "that this will be nothing but a simple message or something." Hermione looked herself over and self-consciously touched her messy updo. "He will tease me for this ridiculous hair, remind me how inconvenient his night has been, and be on his way."

Slowly grinning, Ginny softy shook her head in disagreement.

Hermione stood up straight and turned to finally walk down the hall, but stopped abruptly and looked back at Ginny. Her friend gave her an annoyed look and tried to slap her arse, but she scooted forward just in time for her to miss. Hermione pointed at her, as if to indicate that this was all proof that neither of them were in the right state of mind to confront this situation properly. Her expression quickly shifted into worry and Ginny exhaled, "You look fine, now go!"

Hermione ran her hands down her navy party dress as if to straighten it out, turned again, and made her way down the hall. She peeked up to see Draco still pacing, but he turned when he heard her approaching footsteps, and did a double-take.

She made her best attempt to appear surprised by his presence, "Malfoy?"

As she approached him, he only continued to stare at her.

"Well? Is everything alright?" she continued on, as if she were not in a revealing nightclub dress, and passed him to unlock her door as casually as she could.

.

Draco stood frozen, and gulped as she turned away to her door, extending her leg in such a way that the hem of her short dress fell against it. There was no way to ignore how her outfit exposed a good portion of her back, and he caught sight of a few freckles that he would never have known existed, until now.

Trying not to stare, he watched her fumble with her keys, knowing that in a moment, he would see inside her place: her personal, private space. Soon he would have an idea of how she lived outside of the office, away from him. He guessed that upon viewing this other side of her, he would never want to leave. Just as he tried to push out some words, he was seized by the click of her lock opening.

It all happened so fast. The twist of the handle, the creak of the hinge, and there it was... her home. There was a warm glow of light from the inside of her flat that reminded him of warm butterbeer on cold nights. He swallowed even harder, keeping his hands in his coat pockets. Hearing a noise down the hall, he was distracted for a moment until Hermione spoke to him.

"Malfoy, is there a reason you are at my place?"

He turned to her fully, planting his feet just right, but incapable of talking. She was waiting, standing in the threshold of her doorway, her curious hazel eyes framed by a thin black eyeliner. Draco had never seen them so clearly, and they had never looked better gazing up at him. His heart was racing and, overwhelmed, he looked to the floor, hoping for an answer in the pattern of the carpet.

"Draco? Is everything alright?"

Her voice was soft with concern, causing him to whip his head up. Years of thinking about her, only making brief eye contact with her as they crossed in the hallways, both working past the usual hours. Was it so obvious that this was hard for him? Or maybe she thought there was bad news to be delivered... he could not have her thinking that. He began to nod, to confirm that everything was alright, but then it dawned on him that perhaps it was not alright. After all, he had no idea what was in the letter. The letter! Give it to her, you twit!

Draco took his hand out of his left pocket, passing her an envelope, but as he stretched his arm out to her, he quickly realized that this was a different letter, one with her name handwritten on the top instead of printed. Fuck! Not that one, you git! Shit, shit-

While Hermione naturally reached for it, he quickly snatched it back. Her brows furrowed and she glanced back up at him.

"Okay, Malfoy, either give me the letter or don't, I'm not up for your games here. I get that you probably wasted your night waiting to deliver something-" but before she finished, he switched hands, handing her the Ministry letter from his right pocket instead.

Hermione appeared perplexed, taking the envelope and holding it steady, apparently not concerned by the 'urgent' markings stamped across it. She peeked over to where his left arm had gone back into his pocket along with the other envelope.

Leaning against her door-frame, she pointed down to it, "And that one? My name was on that. Is that not to be delivered as well?"

Draco's heart sunk, his eyes flickering down to his pocket for a moment, then back up at her.

She tilted her head, curiously studying him, "Malfoy, that wasn't a Ministry letter, but it had my name on it. What's going on?"

Nervously licking his lips, he looked away, wondering if he could get out of this, but all the same, he still did not really want to. He was going in blind, unaware of his next move.

Hermione could see his nervousness, and for a moment it slightly amused her, but after a few moments, watching his anxiety began to give her discomfort. "Okay, look, do you... do you want to come in?"

She leaned over to glance down the long hall to see if her best friend had in fact heard her remark, imagining Ginny snickering to herself alone near the exit door. Finding no movement or noise, she looked back up at Draco, who appeared completely flabbergasted.

At the suggestion of entering her flat, Draco's awestruck mind flooded with scenarios. Stumbling to find words, he hesitated for a moment and began to lean toward the hallway, toward the coward's path: down the hall, into the lift, past her silver mailbox, and out into the street, where he probably belonged. But then he stopped, suspended, and his feet became heavy.

The split-second visual of his leaving her made him feel empty and depressed. He felt better standing right outside of her door, just like this. Logically, he concluded that if he could stand here like this all night, perhaps he would feel even better inside of her place. How simple the decision was. He guessed most other wizards would probably never have taken the time to think over a choice to enter Hermione Granger's home, but this was different. There was a profusion of things unspoken, which the envelope still in his pocket reminded him of.

Finally, he managed to whisper, "Yes."

After the uncomfortable wait for him to decide, Hermione had expected more of an answer. She had to raise her eyebrows at his simple communication. This was real now: Draco Malfoy was going to enter her apartment, and she really had no idea what was going to happen.

She cleared her throat softly, and nodded, "Okay..."

With a deep exhale, she turned to open the door and walked into her flat. She peeked back, to confirm that his feet had actually crossed the threshold... though she hardly needed her eyes for that. Like at the Ministry offices, she could sense his presence. It was as if the air had buoyancy, and the room felt fuller when he was around. In a small private moment, she closed her eyes, inhaling the musk of his cologne, before turning to face him.

"Right, well, this is my place. If you- you know, plan to stay, you can put your coat here."

Draco frantically looked around, trying to absorb all of the ambiance. Did she say, if I planned to stay? Did she mean like...?

He could feel her staring at him, so he complied, turning to take off his coat and holding it tight. It made him feel vulnerable to part from it, especially as he noticed her staring down at the pocket, though she did not mention it, simply pointing to a hook behind him on the wall. He turned, trying not to fumble at hanging his coat, and pausing to take in long breath, which only did so much to calm him. Apprehensive at abandoning his coat, and especially the left pocket, he turned to make an attempt to observe her home properly.

The space was calming, an old building that had built-in shelves with books tucked in nicely, just as he knew Granger to be: neat and tidy. The small archways appeared to lead into other rooms, which only piqued his curiosity more. There was soft lighting from what looked to be Muggle lamps, and old hardwood floors that creaked slightly when he took a step. Her furniture looked to be purposely placed and he guessed by her love of books that she might have a favorite spot to read.

Hermione, feeling satisfied that she had been a nice enough host so far, was reminded of her own inebriation the moment she tried to kick off her heels, wobbling unsteadily as she did so. Maybe that was too much, she thought as she leaned to fuss with her earrings, trying to act naturally as she quietly excused herself into the kitchen in search of some allievation potion to drink.

Draco did not move to follow her, only watching as he studied this unique creature in her environment. Should he remove his shoes like she had? He thought not, as that would appear unusual according to his upbringing. Maybe only if she asks. A moment later, he heard clanking noises from the kitchen, but he could not see around the corner. After another moment, Hermione's head popped into view from around the corner and she prompted, "Tea?"

He quickly nodded.

"Okay, but I'm making it the Muggle way. I just think, you know, it tastes different."

Draco smiled to himself, trying to relax, since she appeared as such, and continued to study her living room. He suspected making tea the Muggle way would take a little longer, which he was glad for. As he took tentative steps around her place, he noticed a side table with the only visible mess in the form of a pile of letters, some opened some not. He glanced up to see if she was still out of sight, and then back down to scan the names on envelopes. It was clear that they were delivered by owl, judging by the lack of stamps and the small indentation of a beak on the envelope edges. Though, without touching the items, he was unable to decipher who had sent her so many, and it made him feel foolish that he could not pluck up the courage to deliver even one.

He twisted slightly to glance back at his coat, as if he could see right through the left pocket, the envelope taunting him. He imagined that the ink from the words would make an attempt to escape, floating above him and over to her ear without his permission. Glancing back at her stack of mail, he thought that maybe she did not need another, perhaps he should not bother her with his own. When he heard the floor creak near the kitchen, he quickly stepped away from her pile of mail, turning to her bookshelf as a decoy.

As Hermione emerged from the kitchen, she pretended not to see that she had apparently startled Draco with her sudden reappearance, noticing that he quickly glanced away from where his coat hung. Lowering the delicate teacups and saucers onto the coffee table, her shaking hands nearly caused her to slosh the tea out. She retreated back into the kitchen to return with a pitcher of milk. Putting her hands on her hips, she looked at the table, satisfied that it would be enough, then cast her gaze back over to Draco. He appeared to be scanning the books on her shelf; it reminded her of his intensity at work in the Ministry labs.

Hermione was desperate to sober up a little from her night out, hoping to be more alert for this momentous occasion of Draco Malfoy actually being in her home. Gesturing for him to sit down, he walked over to the table to obey. Pouring a bit of milk, she offered him some, which he quietly approved by nodding. She wrapped her hands around her teacup, placed her elbows on the table, and took a sip as she peeked up at him, catching his eyes on her.

Suddenly, she felt self-conscious and tried to appear more proper, dropping her elbows and sitting up straight. It was strange to see him in her space... a place that probably appeared old and dirty in the eyes of someone brought up in a mansion. She assumed, from their history, that everything was likely below standard for someone like him.

Draco took a sip of his tea, and as it swirled past his tongue, his eyes darted once more over to Hermione. It does taste different. Not the milk, not the type of tea, but...

His thoughts were interrupted by her knowing nod at his reaction. "See, different, right? I swear, when you use magic there's a lingering taste, but I can't put my finger on it. Everyone always argues that they can't taste it and that it's all just in my head."

Draco placed his cup down in front of him, but smiled to himself at her theory. Though she might never know it, the topic was certainly a coincidence.

"You think I'm making it up, too, don't you?"

Watching the tea ripple in his cup, he slowly shook his head then peeked back up at her.

Hermione was more than curious about Draco's unusual silence. They had never had such a quiet, non-malicious moment between them, or even talked much at all, since he started at the Ministry. Her slight intoxication possibly making her more brave, she did not back down from staring at him. As far as she was concerned, this was her home after all. Soon though, she became distracted by her own silhouette reflecting in his eyes... something she had never noticed before with anyone else.

Quickly snapping out of it, she decided that he was not allowed to merely sip her tea with his pouty lips, and stare at her with his flawless gray eyes. Fed up by the silence, she impatiently raised her eyebrows to urge him to speak, to say something, to admit to why he was here.

Draco thought hard on what to say. After all, she was not an idiot. Why would he be spending so much time at her door, just to deliver a letter? He could easily have left it. Though if he was being honest with himself, she did not seem too bothered about the urgent letter. His body shifted uncomfortably and he peeked over toward his coat once more, satisfied that it was still a safe distance away from her.

Hermione immediately picked up on his paranoid glance once again. That's it, the pleasantries are over. He was definitely hiding something in that envelope with her name on it. Hastily bouncing up from her seat toward the coat, she suddenly felt a grip around her wrist.

"Wait-" he implored.

Hermione looked down at her arm where his hand was on her, realizing that they were closer than they had ever been, in fact she could not recall a time where he had ever made contact before. Slowly looking up, she fumbled with her voice for a moment before finding it, "Draco, what's in that envelope?"

He hesitated and closed his eyes, "It's- I just wasn't sure if you-"

Feeling as if his brain had stalled, words failed Draco for the moment, and still she waited. When he opened his eyes, he saw her concern and exhaled in defeat, letting go of her arm. She invited me in. She didn't sneer in disgust at my presence, or tell me to go away...

Standing, he passed by her, their bodies nearly touching, and stopped in front of his coat, where he took the envelope out of his left pocket and met her back where she stood. Reaching for her hand, he gently placed it inside, feeling like he had just given her a white flag, and could only wait to see what she would do with this power.

Allowing herself a moment of pretending to study the ink that displayed her name, she tried not to be so obvious that she knew exactly what his handwriting looked like, "Is this from you?"

Draco stood close, rubbing the back of his neck, "Yes."

Hermione held it with both hands, A letter from him? Out of all the possibilities for what might have happened tonight, she was certainly not expecting this: a personal letter from Draco Malfoy.

Flipping the envelope over, she noticed that it appeared to be bursting with folded parchment and was crinkled at every edge. It was as if it had gone through the Muggle postal service on a return and back journey, but there were no stamps to be found. Hermione looked back up at Draco, heart racing over what could possibly be written in a letter from him. She was burning to read it, but how could she while he was standing right there?

Draco nervously watched as she turned around, paused, then walked away from him. She had not said a word, but presently, he heard the soft closing of a door, and he was left alone, staring down at their two cups of tea.

Looking back at his coat again, but with a different meaning this time, he wondered if he should go. Let her read it, give her time. Besides, if she hated it, she would not have to politely tell him to leave. After all, they still had to work together. He reflected on staying late at the office because she did, just for that one moment in passing.

He mentally scanned through every word he had quilled into the parchment, imagining them from her perspective. Oh no, what have I done? I should go in there, get it back... If I use my wand, I can-

A noise from the next room over made him freeze and listen, but then it was quiet again. He made small moves toward the door, all while thinking he should turn and run instead.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the door, Hermione nearly missed her bed to sit, distracted by the open letter. Sitting down, she had tried to read it quickly at first, but found herself stopping to re-read certain lines over again, in order to fully absorb them... for it was a letter with sweet and kind things to say about her, from none other than Draco Malfoy. All he had written, was like filling in every passing moment between them. All of the foolish romantic thoughts that she had ever had about the two of them, was inked onto this parchment, in his handwriting.

Other parts of the letter confessed his interests in Muggle life, his efforts to try Muggle food, and how he thought it had tasted different than when it was altered by magic. She grinned, as she had only just made that suggestion moments ago about the tea, and reflected that it had likely been why he had smiled at her remark.

There were still more pages to go, however, and some parts were far more intense. Places where her teardrops soaked onto the word 'Mudblood,' magnifying it for a second, then blurring the ink as the word began to smear. It was where he took count of how many times he had said it, and how he wished he had a time-turner to take it all back. He counted? It only made her cry more. She had always hoped he was too clever to accept his place in life, that his arrogance had been a farce. Here now, was proof.

A whole six pages of parchment, front and back, the letter threatened to overwhelm her. It was profound and heartbreaking and she flipped the parchment shakily while scanning certain parts over again. She read it at least three times before she decided she could face him. For a moment though, the skeptical part of her mind began to assault her heart. Was this truly a confession, a love letter? Or was it a false attempt at redemption? Would he need something from her?

She quickly deduced, I have nothing to give him. He already has a job, his family has money, what could he need?

Hermione turned, staring at her bedroom door. He was just there, on the other side of it. That door was somehow more of a burden than ever before, as it separated her from him. She wiped her eyes, wondering how bad her makeup could be, and quickly tried to clear it, recognizing how sober she was now. Delicately, she placed the parchment back into the envelope to keep it safe. It seemed fragile, like their relationship. She wondered if she could make it indestructible somehow, like sealing it in a frame and perhaps placing it in a museum for historical reference. Who would ever believe such a letter such had been written by him, otherwise?

Anxiously going to the door handle, she slowly turned it, but when she gave it a tug, it did not open. She looked at the door in annoyance. Not now, not this time! The old building was stubborn, and was the primary reason she had never fully shut the door before.

She reached for her wand, but recalled that she had left it in the other room. Determined, Hermione used two hands on the doorknob and pulled back hard in her attempt to open it. "Come on, open up! Why are you so difficult?"

Draco paused when he heard her talking to someone, or something, behind the door. Was it to him? Then, when the door appeared to budge slightly, he quickly put the pieces together. He grabbed the handle and tried to push it open, but without any luck, "Granger, you okay in there?"

He put his ear to the door and heard her sigh, "Yes. Door's stuck, wand needed."

Immediately heading to his coat to retrieve his wand, he cast an opening spell on the lock. Nervous now to see her, he unconsciously placed his wand down on a side table. His breathing picked up when the handle turned and the door wedged open.

Hermione stood there in the doorway, breathing hard. Draco's heart fluttered and he grinned as he realized that her urgency to open the door gave him all the answers needed.

"I read it. Three times."

Draco raised his eyebrows, swallowing hard, his mind racing to guess what she thought about it.

"Draco, thank you. That was... sweet."

He tried to read her expression. What did that mean, sweet? Was she trying to be polite?

She stepped forward, tugging at his shirt gently, her eyes studying his.

"Hermione?"

A large smile grew on her face and her fingers climbed up his shirt, tugging at his collar to pull him closer until her lips met his. Taking only a second to realize what was happening, he quickly pressed against her, gripping her waist to pull her the rest of the way in. He was starved for her, from years of secretly pining and imagining what it felt like to have her body pressed against him. It was more than his mind could collect all at once, as he gently grazed his tongue against hers. She tasted like tea, and he remembered how much better it was when made the Muggle way.

Hermione hummed against his lips after the brief touch of his tongue, and fumbled slightly, bumping the door closed. She vaguely realized that it might get stuck again, but who cared now? She felt her knees weaken, and guided him hastily over to the bed. She felt him turn, sitting himself down, and without her usual analysis on what was happening, she slowly slid her knees around his hips, watching him closely. There was a feeling of heat from his palms as they gently slid over her thighs. She paused catching his hesitation, their momentum suddenly brought to a halt, as he avoided her gaze.

Though Draco's mind swirled with all the things they could be doing, there was so much more he wanted to ask her before moving on. As he was about to look up at her, his eye caught sight of his letter she placed neatly on her bedside table. He felt strange to see it elsewhere and not where it had been living for so long.

Then it reminded him of the other letter, the original excuse to see her tonight. She had barely taken any notice of the 'urgent' marking stamped across the front.

Reaching for a loose strand of her hair falling down from her messy updo, he twirled it gently, "Hermione-"

She raised her eyebrows, and he felt the tips of her fingers caress the back of his neck.

Still holding her tight against him, he queried, "What was in the other letter?"

She paused, looking away for a moment while sheepishly grinning. "Oh, that was your invitation."

___________________________________

Note:

Credits to Strictly Dramione FB group on the creative magical street drug suggestions that I either used, got inspiration from, or received feedback, specifically;

Renea13; Aimee Cri; Zivandre; Anisha Halder; TheLastLynx; Alyssa Wonderland; Ruthy4vrSmoaked; Ravenclaw-Sass; BeauxX

Last but not least, Beta credit goes to HeartOfAspen, who reminded me that Overtime needed a good spanking... and I never argue. Bend and snap ladies...


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